2nd Time's A Charm

Hey! So, we had another baby! It's taken me awhile to write about this mostly due to sheer sleepiness and no time whatsoever. Seriously. I can't even return my parents' phone calls. However, in the wake of all the fallout regarding opening or revisiting conversations regarding mental health and depression, I'm going to try to put this all down.

In short: I was terrified for 9 months due to the PTSD and postpartum depression I suffered after the birth of our first. Terrified. Therefore, that and the absence of tequila made for a
VERY. LONG. PREGNANCY.

Last October when we decided to have another child, I was all, "YEAH! LET'S DO THIS!" and then two days after seeing the positive pregnancy test, was curled up in the fetal position. I was convinced I was going to die. Actually had to do some MAJOR working through emotionally and spiritually for 9 months about this. It may not make a lot of sense to a lot of people, but it's like...my body chose flight from the very beginning, and even when I was in the hospital I had a hard time getting my body and my brain and my soul convinced that it was go time. For 9 months, my brain told me awful stories over and over again, random events being taken and twisted. Awful stuff. I wanted to get back on my antidepressant but unfortunately that made me feel physically horrible and even more mentally unstable so I dropped that idea pretty quickly. I had to walk, eat fresh and nutritious food, and be real with my mama tribe - trust the community that I had to work to be a part of for 3 years.

Fortunately, I had a completely different social, emotional, and professional framework from which to approach this pregnancy. Love, support, open arms and ears from every which way. There was an outpouring of information and cheering-on from women who had VBAC'd before, and not just women in my generation. In fact, the aunts and friends with college-age children taught me so much about their VBAC experiences. It was beautiful. I still puked nearly every day until discovering the magic of Zantac in the third trimester, and being pregnant, planning a music therapy conference, working part-ish time while chasing a preschooler...it takes a lot out of a person. There are so many things that made it all tolerable - friends stealing my oldest so I could nap or just have time to think my thoughts, or supper sharing (You have corn chips and beans? I have chicken and cheese! Let's make nachos!), and not to mention friends with stashes of Zofran. There were gorgeous mother blessings, and in the week between 40- and 41- weeks, there were innumerable "random" kindnesses. Our elderly neighbors brought us cookies, people called or Emailed to check-in, and sweet ladies texted me not "have you had that baby yet?" but "thinking about you and holding you up in love" type texts. I cried at the abundance of support.

My wonderfully VBAC-cheerleading doctor was scheduled to deliver her own baby the same week I was due. This sent me into a bit of a frenzy of doubt and I considered changing doctors. I was talked off that ledge and eventually did need to be transferred to the care of another doctor, but after a lot of talking and crying and journaling and more counsel from wise women, ended up being fine with it. After all, the doctor's job is to generally catch the baby or intervene when necessary and that one person may or may not end up on call when your time comes, so there's really no point in holding on so tightly to the thought of one person making or breaking your experience. I trusted the facility where I would be birthing, trusted my birth team, so I slowly came around to trusting that everything was going to be okay. I had to decide that I would be the one deciding how my experience would go. Mentally I held VBAC-ing at a distance. I wasn't married to the idea, just because I didn't want to be disappointed. I set my expectations bar very, very low for this birth. My goal was to come home healthy, with a healthy baby, without feeling like a prisoner of war. Everything else I could take or leave.

My due date came and went. No baby. Of course. I was not at all expecting anything early to happen. Hopeful? Yes. Dubious? Totally. Since my first was born at 42.5 weeks I just hunkered, stayed away from my phone and Facebook and walked like I had never walked before. I did all the interventions I knew how to. Red Raspberry Leaf tea, Evening Primrose Oil up one side and down the other (you'll know what this means if you're in a crunchy birth community. If not, ask me about it.), sex, everything. My body just was not ready at 40 weeks. Around 40.5 (Monday) I had a nonstress test, and everything looked great but fluid levels were a little iffy, so the doc wanted me to come back on Wednesday to repeat the test. Tuesday I tried castor oil, and while it made me power puke, it did not start off contractions. I went back in on Wednesday morning, where we found out the fluid levels had dropped, and she had me go "straight to L&D." Do not go home, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Well.

Since I had eaten a paltry breakfast due to the effects of the previous nights castor oil extravaganza, I instead went to get a turkey sandwich, got adjusted by my chiro, and then went to L&D. I might have a little bit of a problem with authority. I got hooked up and answered all the check-in questions while I waited for the Mr. to show up. He had stayed home to finish up packing and deliver our daughter to the friends watching her for the day. When he arrived, the doctor did as well and placed the foley bulb. She maybe got a little flustered and asked if I had gone home because everything was "behind schedule." She and I were clearly not a match made in heaven, but whatever. She checked to make sure that I was at least a little dilated, and I could feel her fingers on the baby's head.

A foley bulb and low dose pitocin induction is a great option for VBAC mamas. The foley manually dilates the cervix but is kind of awkward - there's the bulb inside and then this long tube and then a bag of saline dangling for counter pressure, and YES it is just about as awkward as you can imagine that whole scenario. Upon reaching 4 cm, the bulb falls out and then the rest of labor should be pretty straightforward. So the doc places the foley bulb and I start getting my fainting aura of slowly not being able to hear. My sweet nurse rushed to put a wet cloth on my forehead and get me some ice. Bless her.

I made it to 4 cm and the bulb fell out and there were high fives all around. And then the doc came in to break my water and realized, right hand checking for dilation and left hand wielding a crochet hook looking device like a wizard wand, that the baby had turned. Transverse. She put the hook down and asked to turn off the pitocin and asked for a sono machine. The Mr. texted my doula who came rushing in from a twin birth to see what was going on. Doc says "c section" and I say, "give me time." Actually, I totally freaked out and ugly cried, and THEN requested some time. During this time I had like, three doulas around me trying to figure out every which way to turn the baby. We were on the spinning babies website, doing inversions, and at one point even had ice and peppermint oil on his head to see if he would turn. Nothing. After about an hour and a half the doc came back in and the nugget was still in the same position, and babies don't come out transverse.

So, we settled in to wait our turn in the OR, chatting and telling jokes. When it was time I walked into the OR, had a long talk with the anesthesiologist so he could keep an eye on my blood pressure, and they hooked up my Spotify "Labor and Birth" playlist. I was nervous, so that means I chatted nonsensically with everyone in the room, and an OR tech kept asking me about my awesome songs that were, in his words, "the perfect playlist - and I'll tell you what. I've heard a lot of these playlists. Yours is the best." Mr. S. had the job of announcing the sex of the baby, and was told to stay at my side the whole time. The surgeons got to work on me and my sweet doula kept a cotton ball of lavender by my nose so I wouldn't have to smell the cauterizing. After a bit, and a whole bunch of digging around in my uterus to get the baby to turn head down (it didn't happen - he came out breech), they said, "Ready dad?" and Mr. S stood up and said, a little choked-up, "We had a boy!"

*we have to pause right here for a minute because I am tearing-up just remembering that moment.*

Everyone in the OR cheered and cried, and I ugly-cried. I was seriously floored, surprised beyond everything, and said something special along the lines of, "I was growing a penis this whole time and had no idea!" Early on I suspected it was a boy, and now looking back I had so much that I was hoping for in this birth but was afraid to hope for, so I talked myself out of things so that I wouldn't eventually be disappointed. Not that we would have been disappointed had we had a girl because SISTERS!, and we have a really great girl name, but I loved the idea of trying something new this time, learning new things.

Here's where things in the OR get really awesome. Little man was taken over to the table to be checked out and Mr. S stayed to hold my hand. Then they brought the babe over to me and laid him on my chest while I was stitched up. As a family we gazed at each other and laughed and touched faces and nuzzled. It was the most amazing thing. I never felt alone or scared, just overwhelming joy and love. Mr. S held baby while I was put on a gurney to be wheeled to recovery and when it was all over, the babe was back on my chest. He nursed like a champ in recovery and we got to face time late with sweet A to let her know she had a little brother.

So yeah, totally different things learned the second time around. The recovery was STILL not a picnic, but my mind and body weren't fried as badly, and I wasn't scared of being a mom. In fact, I turned tearfully to Mr. S one day and said, "I think I've been depressed for four years. And now it's gone." Reminds me of a verse in Isaiah:

"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland."
43:15-16

Fits perfectly with what we named him - after a famous wilderness philanthropist.

And hey, here's my Labor and Birth Tunes playlist. He was born while "Out of the Woods" by Nickel Creek was playing, followed by "Magic" by Coldplay.

D is for Dallas

Six-years-ago-me hates that this blog series is even going to happen, but I have something I need to share with you guys: 

I love Dallas. 

I have recently found myself defending its hidden awesomeness up one side and down the other, even bristling when someone else who lives in the Metroplex and PLAYS REGULARLY in Dallas got all high and mighty about how much better Fort Worth is. Now, Fort Worth is awesome. I love the culture, love the vibe, and love the people sporting their boots and cowboy hats just because it's Tuesday. Yes it is more country and more laid back. However, in my opinion it in no way compares to Dallas at all. Not in that Dallas is better by any stretch of the imagination, but that trying to compare the two is like trying to compare apples to oranges. You don't hate the orange because it doesn't taste like an apple. That's just silly. It's kind of the same as trying to compare Austin to Dallas. If Dallas is your old rich Aunt, Austin is your dreadlocked hippie college-aged cousin. You don't love one more than the other, you love and interact with them differently. Maybe you happen to know that despite her big hair and fake boobs your Aunt loves to frequent farmer's markets in her pearls and stilettos and at the same time you wish your cousin had gotten his degree in efficient infrastructure planning instead of skipping class to smoke pot.

When I got here, I hated it. I hated the people, hated the vibe, hated that everyone my age around me seemed to either have it all together or look a whole lot prettier while they were working and playing so much harder than I was. I remember going to the Ghost Bar for a friend's bachelorette party and being completely disgusted. I was supposed to spend the night in the hotel that night and ended up asking Mr. S to pick me up because it was so terrible. Granted, my introduction to Dallas came at a really lonely time in my life - I was engaged and planning a wedding remotely (in Austin) and I was working on and commuting to my first year of graduate school from Arlington to Denton while my fiance lived in Dallas. It was just totally a blur. I was homesick for the hill country and my friends, who were for the most part all still in Austin finishing their degrees and having fun together on a regular basis. Pair all that with a significant other who is more of a homebody to my PLAYPLAYPLAY! nature and boom. Dallas Hater.

Fast-forward to three years ago and meeting Annie. We are both music therapists, foodies, runners, life enthusiasts, we hit it off immediately while volunteering at a grief camp. She had done her internship in Dallas and had spent that time exploring all the culinary, beverage, and breakfast taco delights Dallas had to offer, and when we started working together, we started playing - hanging out at different bars and trying new restaurants. The veil was officially lifted on the previously hidden wonderfulness that Dallas had to offer. Our friendship is definitely in a different season now what with me having a toddler and the whole life-shift that having kids and living in the 'burbs brings but she and I still meet a random restaurants or food trucks that we have hear are great and we scheme our next 5K races and/or restaurant adventures.

While all this was happening, different neighborhoods have enjoyed a gentrification or awesomeing up. Oak Cliff is an absolute gem if a bit of a drive for me, East Dallas is probably the closest to Austin Dallas will ever get, and I'm starting to explore Deep Ellum. More importantly, my very own neighborhood continues to surprise and delight me in different ways every week. The people here are incredible, and I have found and helped foster a really fun and supportive community of parents and kids.  And that's just in my back yard. ON TOP OF THAT there have been city renovations that have caught my eye, namely the new Klyde Warren Park, Perot Museum, the Dallas Museum of Art now offering free admission, and the endless floral enchantment of the Dallas Arboretum. 

 So, there's the background on my idea of writing about why I have come to love Dallas. Mostly because I have found lots of Austin or hill country expats struggling to find their footing in this concrete jungle where big hair and thirty-thousand-dollar millionaires abound. Dallas in fact is all those things you hear about it. The people can be really overly flashy and rude (especially if you're vying for a seat on a patio when the weather is awesome), there's gobs of silicone running around here, and there's a very real disconnect between where people live and where they work, which can lead to never knowing your neighbors and spending a lot of time in the car on highways that never seem to ever be finished with construction. 

But that's not what we're here to talk about. We're here to talk about the side of Dallas that takes some persistent digging to find, that really I didn't get to know until I had a kid and really settled in to knowing who I am and finding/creating my village. Another part of this has been really paying attention to that whole "bloom where you're planted" philosophy or something that I read on an internet meme a week or so ago:

There is no longer any point in hating Dallas because it's where I am right now, and hating it just seems like such a waste of time I could be spending enjoying life.

So buckle up. You're not going to believe the incredible things I have discovered.

daily

"I am so smart, S-M-R-T." 

-Homer Simpson

I'm a little, er, prone to flights of fancy when it comes to organizing myself. Or, as some would say, time and space completely dissolve if I have not written myself a very stern list of things to do. I need quantifiable goals (that I can quantifiably ignore if I'm feeling less than jazzed about the creative process), I need gold stars. I need to look upon a crossed of list of things done and smirk triumphantly. 

And also to smile because although the kitchen has a ton of miscellaneous crap on it, today is not the day that I tidy up the kitchen. HAH!

I found the cute template, popped on over to Picnik.com (which is soon closing down, super sadface) to enter my daily to-do, and then framed it. Hung it in my kitchen. I think it's the best thing ever! If I could JUST get it to do my dishes...

It Takes A Village

I have blogged before about having to seek out your own village once you become a mama. I am fortunate enough to have one, quite literally, in my own back yard. And this past weekend, most were ACTUALLY in my back yard! Kyle smoked two briskets, grilled some chicken, and we sauteed some veggies, and everyone either brought sides, beer, or wine (and sometimes all three!)

We had new and old faces, new and old babies, lots of great food and wonderful conversation! I only snapped a few pictures as I was busy running around but we had THE best time ever. I am so thankful to have these people as my support system and am honored to be part of theirs. 

Do you have a village out there to help support you through whatever it is you're going through? I'd love to hear about it!

weekend away

I love surprises. 

I love getting them and springing them on people. 

I love thinking of just the right thing for just the right time in a person's life to surprise them with.

This past Friday I told my hubs that we had dinner reservations, and he had to get home at 6:30. He came in rather frazzled at 6:45 and off we went just 30 miles away to McKinney. When we pulled up to a big, old, victorian-style house that said "B&B" out front, he got suspicious.  "Uhhh...what are we doing?" 

"SPENDING THE NIGHT SURPRISE!"

I had called my mom the week before to babysit our sweet nugget while I kidnapped my hubs for a night, finding a B&B in a nearby small town. He has been working crazy long hours for the past month, to the point that we hadn't really been seeing each other and it was all kinds of time to reconnect and do what we love to do - explore, eat great food, and wander a new place.

So Friday night after his shock wore off we headed to the town square where we wandered in and out of antique shops and listened to local musicians. As it got closer to dinnertime, we checked out the McKinney Wine Merchant, as our dinner reservations were at Gregory's Bistro, which was BYOB. Y'all. The food was completely amazing. We had mussels to start - lemon, jalepeno mussels. K ordered the sirloin, and I ordered scallops. Both came with white truffle mashed potatoes, and I had some grilled asparagus on the side. Bliss, people. Gregory is legit - he was born in France and has been cooking like crazy his whole life. I am glad he ended up in Texas, because he is a genius, and our food was absolutely incredible. Afterward, we went around the corner for some gelato and then headed back to the B&B. 

The next morning, since we are parents now and cannot physically sleep in, we hopped in the hot tub on our porch before breakfast, which I'm pretty sure is the best way to start any morning, ever. Our hosts fed us pecan waffles and fruit and then we were off to the Franconia Brewery. The tour was really informative (to me, at least - the hubs has been known to brew some beers). I learned a lot about what it means to sustainably brew, and I have a lot of respect for what Franconia is doing: adhering to the German brewing purity laws, not bottling until they can work out a system of reusing their bottles like they do in Europe, and in general putting out some tasty beverages. We sat with a lovely English couple, making jokes in the warm early afternoon sun, then made our way home.

We had a fabulous, much needed relaxing weekend. Hopefully this will be a new tradition for us, exploring the small towns around Texas.

9ish months does not = over it.

'kay so I've been quiet on the whole personal, emotional front, mostly because I've been going through a lot and I haven't had the time or the brainpower to get it all down the way I wanted to. To catch us all up, here's where we're at: I've got some lingerling postpartum depression/anxiety issues, perhaps dealing with some PTSD. I'm taking an anti-depressant for all those things, trying to find holistic ways to do it so I don't always have to be on the drug. I've always been down on anti-depressants, but it's kind of a necessary thing at this time, and I don't want to go back to the nightmares and the anxiety attacks. A bonus is that my thyroid is kind of jacked up, which just makes all of the above a fun carnival ride of awesomeness.

I don't mean to paint a bleak picture - the day-to-day is really kind of awesome a lot of the time, and I'm enjoying being home with A. Just sometimes there are days like today where I read a story about another mom's horrendous C-section experience and I end up a little shaky and a whole lot weepy. Thankfully I have people to call when that happens and then I jump headfirst into my journal, and try to make some time to paint.

But gosh, it's hard sometimes. I want to be so awesome at everything and right now I feel like I am just scraping by.

This all feels a whole lot like when my life was almost literally falling down around me in my early teenage years. This time I've decided to look at the dark places a little bit differently - instead of trying to swallow everything and pretend like it's fine, just fine, thanks - and use them to fuel my creativity. Grief is a powerful force and already it's drawn me back to who I am and who I want to be creatively.

Even that is a double-edged sword - I still have to write down lists of things that I need to get done each day to feel accomplished and not have a whole day go by before I realize what time it is. 

The taking care of and loving on the cutest baby in all the land is the easy part. I say easy because it's not like there's a choice involved there - she will grow up happy, healthy, and probably more than a little sarcastic. Parenting is no joke - it's exhausting, it's frustrating, and it stretches me and makes me grow so much it hurts on a daily basis. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here. 

Well okay, probably I'd go for a beach right about now, but you know what I mean.

much too much

I did too much today. 

I woke up early.
I walked the dog.
I baked muffins.

I baked a chicken.

I repurposed last nights dinner into a new(ish) and exciting(ish) one.

I drove to Arlington and hung out at a craft store so my niece could pick out fabric for her Egyptian tunic for her birthday party this weekend.

I cleaned as I went.

I sort of made the bed.

I somehow twisted my knee and now it's swollen.
Most importantly, I kept my kid alive, so I'm going to have to call this day a win, even though I'm sure I'll be asleep by 8:30.

I decided that the Food Network now instead of countdown timers should have a hungry, sleepy, cranky baby in the room while they cook. If they don't accidentally burn the kitchen down, then and only then will I be impressed.

Somebody call the waaaambulance.

the mother 'hood

I did it. I left my dream job after a year and a half to stay at home with my little chickadee.

It was not. an easy. decision.

But looking back, in some ways it was. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I define myself and over and over I kept getting the same result:

1. Wife

2. Mother

3. Music Therapist

4. - 13478. Everything else

I don't want to get all Earth Mother on you, but seriously, giving birth, especially in the way that it all went down, rocked my world. I thought after I went back to work that I was handling it and then I started reading a book called Creative Interventions with Traumatized Children and could see a lot of symptoms of trauma in myself, which then as a self aware therapist made me go: 

huh. I wonder if I can go through all this and still be a good therapist. 

Not that my therapy was ever struggling. I'm really good at what I do. The music and the kiddos and the families were incredible. Invigorating. It was just that in the in-between times I found myself not really being the kind of Wife or Mother that I wanted to be because I was basically in crisis mode, trying to heal myself and my family and at the same time being a support for traumatized and grieving and hurting patients and families at the same time and on top of all that trying to find time to feed, bathe, clothe not only myself but my kid and then somehow find the brain cells to get dinner on the table, maybe hit a yoga class or run or journal in order for me to have some self care. 

In short: I was kind of off-kilter.

I was off kilter, and I had the incredible support of my husband (who should get an award for Dad of the Year in the diaper washing, dish washing, and keeping-his-wife's-shit-together categories) and my mother, who basically...no...actually lived with us for 6 months. I know what you're thinking. That's a whole other series of posts right there, but not in a bad way.

I was a step behind myself, my kid, and my hubs, and I hated that. On my best days I was still exhausted and raw and on my worst days I cried a lot, feeling guilty for "having it all" and being miserable. And then I remembered a line from Wicked:

That's why I couldn't be happier
No, I couldn't be happier
Though it is, I admit
The tiniest bit
Unlike I anticipated
But I couldn't be happier
Simply couldn't be happier
(spoken) Well - not "simply":
(sung) 'Cause getting your dreams
It's strange, but it seems
A little - well - complicated
There's a kind of a sort of : cost
There's a couple of things get: lost
There are bridges you cross
You didn't know you crossed
Until you've crossed
And if that joy, that thrill
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will
Still -
With this perfect finale
The cheers and ballyhoo
Who
Wouldn't be happier?
So I couldn't be happier
Because happy is what happens
When all your dreams come true
Well, isn't it?
Happy is what happens
When your dreams come true!

that's all for now...more about all this later.

Independence

"Moving on is a simple thing. What it leaves behind is hard." - Dave Mustaine

After lots of careful deliberation, some therapy, and a round of Zoloft, 

I've decided to be a stay at home mom with Adeline :) There of course is more to the story but I'm still working on processing it and how I want to say about how my family got to this decision.

Mostly it's because she's irresistible...

Happy (early) Fourth!

May Today There Be Peace Within

humble pie

I feel like I have been going in a million different directions lately, 

but some events over the last few weeks have helped focus me a little bit. 

While I was pregnant I scoffed at the idea of slowing down or changing much about my life. I expected to keep up the go-go-go...I went to happy hours when I was prego and exhausted, flitted around like a bloated social butterfly, did a whole lot of things I don't regret necessarily but will do differently next time around. Why do I have to always bloom late on everything? I swear. It takes me forever to grow up.

Kyle's had this mantra about not having to go to the other side of the world in order to have a full and happy life which I thought was just. silly.

And then all the running around, especially with a 2-3-4-5 month old just got kind of exhausting. So, I have a plan of attack to save my sanity and get more connected with my sweet family.

Stay tuned.

backspacer

Ugh! I keep starting and stopping on this blog post because I don't know where to start. Just write, right?

Right.

Okay. Well, if you're a mom, you know about the mommy blues. I am a pretty emotional person to begin with, and I don't know when it stopped being mommy blues and started being PPD but I started having pretty gnarly anxiety attacks, one after a visit to the OBGYN, and another just out of the blue one night: full on shaking, crying, the works. Sometimes someone will play a sad song and I'll freak out, or my brain will just magically go to that place that creates horrible scenarios, and in each one something happening to me or my loved ones. The nightmares are awesome too.

I am not someone who lives under fear. I'm not. This is therefore new territory for me. I went to the doc to get my thyroid tested and it had swung under my normal range. Their reaction was - everything's in (the standard) normal range! You're fine! Except, I wasn't. I had stopped taking my thyroid meds because I noticed that if I didn't take one, the anxiety wasn't so bad. But then I would notice a drop in milk production. Oh, the rock and the hard place.

Adeline's pediatrician is an earthy crunchy family doc and at her last visit my mom spilled my beans for me. He ended up testing my thyroid and ultimately putting me on a lower dose every other day. He also tested my progesterone, which turned out to be super low (and an indicator of PPD), so I'm taking that now. I am also seeing a therapist every week to help with everything.

I expected to feel better almost immediately, and so far I don't really. The last two days have been rough, enough that I made the decision that our little family was going to stay home instead of go to Vegas for the weekend, where my brother is getting married.

I wanted to write this because I know there are folks out there who have experienced this type thing or are in the middle of it, and I wanted to provide some solidarity, some insight, and hope that things get better. Not that they're all the way better for me quite yet but we're working on it.

mommyville

phew! life, full beautiful painful wonderful life with a 3 month old is FULL and I've been busy living it instead of writing about it but now I'm sitting on the second hour of The Bachelor The Women Tell All and I feel like I can spend a couple brain cells here instead of melting in front of deliciously trashy television.

Things that have been going on - laughing, smiling, marveling, working, working, working, and a tiny bit of sleeping. It's kinda like being in college again, except way more awesome.

I don't know if I'm the only person noticing this but there's been a LOT of death around me lately. It seems to be on everyone's mind as of late - in getting ready for this past weekend's grief camp I was dreading every moment because I feel like I've been swimming in it...and then a local pastor at my coworker's church died suddenly a couple weeks ago, and then I heard that a friend's dad passed away suddenly, and then Jason Mraz's recent blog is all about a song he wrote about people and pets who have gone before....ugh. Thankfully, the day at camp really was wonderful and filled with laughing and helping others that it was incredibly healing for me. I know that's not why we're supposed to do what we do, and I didn't go into it expecting it, it was just a nice surprise.

For whatever reason becoming a mom has made me not only crazy grateful and in awe of life but also heartbroken at the messed up world we're in and really...aware...I guess...of the fragile nature of life. Maybe because there have been some mad tragic things that have happened in my family's life, and the mama hormones, I have been struggling with some anxiety and fear that seriously keep me up at night, second-guessing every step and decision. Any other moms out there experience the same thing? 'cos wow I'd really like to hear that I'm normal.

this is my confession

I'm a little embarrassed to say this

but

I am not a fan of contemporary Christian music.

There. I said it.

I can't help myself...I love hymns, I love music, I love Jesus...what's the problem? It's a little something I like to call the Jesus Rock Show. I don't know when I started feeling this way or noticing, but it all seems so...contrived. I know, I'm not supposed to be judging, but I can't help but wince in church when the live band isn't connecting at all with the audience and is instead having their own personal...well..Jesus Rock Show...up on stage. Hands lifted, tears streaming, totally feeling it, beautiful...until I look around and much of the audience is mouthing the words, looking around awkwardly, waiting for the first chance to be excused. Or even more awkward, when there's one person in the band having a Moment and the rest of the bandmembers obviously aren't. 

Maybe it's a reflection of where I am in my own stumbling meander of faith, this not getting it. You don't know how frustrating it is to be in church, be a musician and someone who is deeply connected to music, and totally counting the minutes until worship is over.

The most awesome worship experience I've had since being in Dallas was when the hubs and I stumbled upon a Church of Christ in our neighborhood that we wanted to check out because it was so close by. Have any of you ever been in a Church of Christ service? I know it gets a bad rap because their whole "no instruments" thing is "weird" (as if one must have ratty jeans and an acoustic guitar to get them some Jesus) but when the congregation exploded into beautiful four-part harmony, our minds were instantly blown. It was an incredible thing. 

All that being said, today I discovered an artist I actually like. It's like the Weepies at church. Even if you don't consider yourself particularly "religious" or into the whole church thing, check out JJ Heller for some good, uplifting tunes.

the good kind of grief

It's finally happened - I've become That Girl Who Works With Dying Kids. I went to dinner with high school friends the other night, several of whom are studying to become doctors and they were talking about maybe losing patients every once in awhile and how hard it would be and when they turned and looked at me I saw different versions of it on everyone's face. Not pity so much but that scrunched up nose how-can-you-do-what-you-do-I-could-never-do-that-I-cry-at-the-drop-of-a-hat type face. 

I'm not even going to lie, I'm pretty much a grief junkie. I got involved with a grief camp almost five (FIVE?!) years ago, a camp for kids who have experienced the death of a loved one. Every time I tell people that it's awesome and fun, they look at me like I'm crazy. Then a couple years ago I started volunteering for another grief organization, which focuses on the families who have experienced the death of a child. The biggest difference is that the first is a week-long camp for just kids, and the second is a family camp that has weekend getaways and one-day events throughout the year. I am fascinated by everyone's story, by everyone's journey of grief.

I think I've mentioned before that the reason I became a music therapist is because music helped me get through some really rough times. My mom was going on 5+ years of being sick from what we now know as multiple chemical sensitivities, my parents announced their divorce, my grandfather was diagnosed with and then quickly died from pancreatic cancer, and my friend Casey jumped off a bridge right around the same time. Honestly, music saved my life. I can look back on that period of my life and realize that I was in shock...I would go from school to San Antonio to see my grandfather and fall asleep on the couch as soon as we got to my grandmother's house. Music is what kept me alive, kept me breathing, saved me. Well, music and God. And some well placed family and friends. 

Everyone experiences grief differently and deals with it differently. I was an angry lady for a good part of high school and college and chose to distract myself with friends and going out. Heck, I even joined MATH CLUB to get out of my house and we know how much I love math. I look back on that time and realize that I was totally getting crashed up on the shore over and over again but slowly I got stronger and was able to pull myself up, then turn around and start pulling others out of the water. That's partially why I do what I do - I know that if I can go through what I did and make it out alive, then I can help others. It is so important that people who have been through or are going through a heavy experience do whatever it takes to express that. Yelling at the sky, journaling, punching a pillow, dancing, swimming, drawing, pounding on a piano or a drum, whatever it is, that stuff cannot be held in, it will destroy you.  

Don't get me wrong - I don't have this superhero complex and think I can save everyone from what they're going through. That's not my job. My job is to just be there to help and hopefully bring some fun, smiles, and reflection to a beautiful life.

Watch Out

Oh and hey I forgot to mention that I started Weight Watchers last week and lost 3 pounds! Let's hope I can stick to this sucker when I go back to work - I've got a bridesmaid's dress and hopefully Costa Rica to keep me motivated!

6 week postpartum checkup: back in the saddle again

I went to my shiny new OB/GYN for my 6 week checkup/annual exam...these things being annual I am deciding whether or not having such a delightful experience this close to my birthday is a good idea. He checked out his handiwork (scar), we chatted about Adeline's labor and delivery, discussed birth control and future pregnancies. Maybe it was because I hadn't had breakfast yet...still getting the hang of timing with a new baby...right now it takes us about an hour and a half to two hours to go from sleeping to out the door. Think that sounds like a long time? I have to shower, get totally dressed and ready, check her diaper bag to make sure everything is together, wake her up, change, feed, change again, put on appropriate going out clothes and THEN we can leave. Phew! For someone who is historically TERRIBLE at forethought, it's quite an exercise. By the time we're all ready to go, I'm ready for a nap.

Like I was saying, maybe it was because I hadn't had breakfast yet, but after all the discussion and the pelvic exam and all that, I was kind of...I don't know...sad? weebed out at the prospect of future babies? make that scared out of my mind of all the complications? overwhelmed because I would like at least one more kid of our own, and would also like to adopt...all of it was too much. Plus I had to focus on my breathing to keep from passing out.  Then add to that the fact that I ran into my midwife yesterday at the gas station...is anyone surprised that I came home, ate lunch, fed the kid and then ended up a weepy mess on the floor by her crib? Sigh.

Recognizing that I needed to do some creative interventions on myself and go back and process Adeline's dramatic entry into the world, I headed off to Hobby Lobby to get some crafting supplies. Thanks to Claire leaving a book on earring making I grabbed some wire and beads and plan to make some jewelry, and then attack a drawing pad with some pastels and colored pencils and whatever else strikes my fancy.

labor and triathlons, a love story

I wanted to get into triathlons because I wanted to have more of a goal than just "lose weight." I wanted to be fit, I wanted an excuse to be active, to get a new bike, to wear fun spandex. Most importantly, I knew the hubs and I wanted to start a family soon and I wanted to get into something that I would crave while I was growing a person. That desire is REALLY strong - I've already started perusing the 2011 tri circuit, trying to pick at least one to do next year. I'm thinking a Dallas race. In the mean time, I also am getting really excited about other running and biking races along the way. I've signed up for the Dallas MS150 and fully intend on doing a whole mess of 5ks. I'm going to take it slow, I'm going to listen to my body, but WOW am I excited to get back out there :)

On an unexpected note, things I learned from my triathlons have helped me get ready for this crazy race called labor. Did you know there are three stages of labor? Early, Active, and...er...I forgot the 3rd stage, but I like to call it "gooey." (the part where you push out the placenta. eck.) I can't help it - I associate each with the stages of a triathlon. There's even a "transition" stage in labor! It's really helped me put things into perspective. Like in early labor, the same as in swimming, the goal is to relax, enjoy, and do some work, but be sure to conserve your energy for the next two phases. I'm planning to give birth at a birthing center, where I get to eat and drink the whole time, so we've got a bag packed for the two of us that looks a lot like a tri snack bag: lots of coconut waters and energy bars.

Something else that triathlons helped me frame up mentally is how much the encouragement of others can help you get through each of these stages. More importantly, the influence of my hubs. I remember during the horrendous, brutal last leg of the Austin (olympic distance) Triathlon. K followed me around the track on foot and when I was sobbing and shivering he was right there, fetching me water and saying things like, "This is the strongest you have ever been," and, "I am so proud of you."

I'll let you know how it actually goes, and I am definitely ready to get back out there...January 1st it's so on.

Happy Halloween!

If you haven't seen at least the first season of Mad Men, let me explain. See, the show is based in the late 50s/early 60s and when i was first prego K and I started watching it and I was FASCINATED not only by how women were treated in general but also by the fact that pregos in that day pretty much daily kicked back all kinds of beverages and smokes. So, when my dear friend Annie decided to throw a Mad Men themed Halloween dinner party, I couldn't resist ;) Don't worry, it's just water and an unlit ciggy.

oh, life.

Hey! So, me & the babe are 35 weeks today and really, I haven't been posting much lately because nothing super exciting has been going on...or maybe it's a matter of perspective.

We're nearly done with the bathroom renovations...as of today we have tile on the floor and in the shower, and the cabinets are in! Now all they to put in is the glass for the shower, the toilet, the sink/countertop, the lights, the mirror, and the fixtures. The big stuff is done though, and wow I can't wait to move back into our bedroom! We decided to get some grownup furniture, which means shopping for bed linens! I'm also really excited to move back into and start tricking out my craft room. You know, in all my extra spare time ;)

Work is the same incredible rollercoaster it always is. I'm astounded at how much I have learned, grown, stretched in the last almost year...speaking of work, I was having a tough time deciding what I could and could not post about on here, so I'm throwing the idea of having a separate music therapy blog around...except, there are tons of wonderful MT blogs out there and I'm wondering if what I have to say is any different than what others have to say. I don't know. We'll see. At any rate, it turns out I'll have a shorter leave than I expected (note to any working mom out there: make sure you will have been at a company for at least a year before deciding to get pregnant. It will save you an insane amount of headaches.) and we're currently trying to figure out childcare. We're leaning toward us doing as much as we can with the help of family, and eventually a nanny. That's yet another thing that's up in the air and it's...not easy to decide. What has been easy is the firm decision to go back to work. I've worked waaaaay too hard to get here to give this thing up. "But what about your KID and someone else raising your CHILD and it's different than you would DO it etc etc etc" yeah yeah, that's a can of worms I am not willing to open up. To each woman/family her/their own decision. Neither reason is the "right" one. This is what is good for us right now and in the wise words of Mr. Tim Gunn we're going to "make it work!"

I know I haven't talked much about this, but turns out I'll be a published author and become a mom all in the same month! Once it's all done I'll let y'all in on what my colleague/mentor/friend and I have been working on for the last few months.

I think our dog Jake senses that there's a disturbance in the force...he's totally off his morning/afternoon walk ritual (or rather, we're off it), we've moved him from the kitch to the living room because of the renovator guys coming in and out every day, and there's all these changes going on at the house. Needless to say he's been a complete and utter spaz for the last few weeks. I've stopped counting how many times he has escaped from our back yard lately, including the one time he vaulted himself OVER a 5 1/2 foot section of our fence from our back porch. That was quite an incredible sight. Thankfully there are lots of squirrels, cats, and bunnies for him to chase so if he's gone 15 minutes or an hour, he's never very far.

So back to the pregnancy thing, I'm sure nobody is surprised to hear that I still throw up every once in awhile. Friday afternoon I went from laughing to coughing to vom-ing all over the parking garage (and my pants...and my shoes...) in like 10 seconds. That's the first time it's snuck up on me like that and I'm really quite glad I wasn't inside the hospital. The last time I WAS in the hospital and had to puke it was because I really had to pee and someone had done something horrific in the toilet I was going to go in, and I was SUPER PISSED because I had just had my favorite pizza for lunch. FLUSH, PEOPLE. UGH.

Sometimes I vom in the morning and am done with it for the rest of the day..sometimes, not so lucky. I definitely sleep with a bottle of tums by my bed. I honestly have no clue why I'm still barfing.Maybe it's the reflux, maybe it's my diet...all things I'm messing with. in fact, I need to go juice some kale and apples today while I'm thinking about it, because one theory is that it's tied to how much iron I've got in my body. At any rate, am I glad that come Thanksgiving I'll be on my way back to my normal self? 

Hell. Yes.